


Four Couples at a Funeral

by sceal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All The Ships, Dead Gerard Argent, Dead Kate Argent, Dead Peter Hale, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/F, Female Protagonist, Fluff and Angst, Liam Dunbar/Malia Tate - Freeform, Mason Hewitt/Scott McCall - Freeform, Minor Jordan Parrish/Sheriff Stilinski, POV Female Character, mention of Braeden/ Melissa McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceal/pseuds/sceal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actually five couples. Six, if you squint. </p>
<p>Lydia, Kira and the rest of the gang attend Peter’s burial (who Lydia may or may not have recently killed, hint: she did. She killed him so dead).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Couples at a Funeral

Lydia wore black and Kira held their umbrella. Rows of headstones covered the ground and the grass squelched beneath Lydia's pumps. Thank God she’d opted for thicker heels instead of stilettos. It was, after all, Peter's special day. He deserved the honor of being the only one to sink into the earth, never to return from the fires of hell into which she’d thrown him.

She didn’t know where she stood on the whole God thing, but for Peter's sake she believed in hell. She definitely hoped there was a dungeon-like room somewhere, guarded by a sadistic fiend with a wide array of torture devices at his disposal. Please, let Peter find his rest disturbed by eternal misery.

The day was miserable enough. The rain hit their umbrella in a steady beat as a balding priest that Derek had insisted on having stood by the head of the tombstone, droning on. The man's advanced age caused him to search for his words as he said the things you say at funerals.

There’d been no ceremony in a church, there certainly wasn’t going to be a reception. The man of the cloth finally finished his spiel and retreated, leaving the cemetery empty except for the supernatural contingent of Beacon Hills and a few of their human allies.

Lydia smiled.

She leaned closer to Kira, until her lips brushed the other girl's soft hair.  Lydia lowered her voice to a whisper so that only her girlfriend would hear her gleeful boast. “He’s not coming back this time.”

Kira turned to look at her, her gaze dark and fathomless. Her eyes suddenly warmed and she grinned. “Except maybe as a headless horseman."

Lydia shuddered. If anyone could do it, it’d be Peter. Her worry must've shown on her face, because Kira reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"Too soon?" Kia said. "That was too soon. Sorry.”

"It's okay," Lydia said. "I'll be right back. I want to pay him my respects." 

Lydia walked up to the open grave.  Kira followed at her side, ensuring that she remained protected from the rain.

"Stay here, okay?" Lydia said. "I need to do this alone."

"Of course," Kira said, moving her arm as if to give her the umbrella. God, Kira was so sweet she made Lydia's heart lurch.

"Stop that," Lydia said, wrapping the handle of the umbrella firmly in Kira's chilled hand. "You'll catch a cold. I just need a minute."

Kira reluctantly nodded.

Lydia walked past the umbrella’s protection, the steady drizzle no doubt frizzing her hair, and peered down at the closed lid of the coffin. She grabbed a handful of mountain ash from her coat pocket and threw it into the open grave. _Goodbye, Peter, you sick, twisted douchebag._

She took a deep breath, trying to get rid of this feeling of wrongness. She wanted to expunge the knowledge that even though he was dead, he’d won, he’d made her kill, he’d made her like him. But she’d done it to save the people she loved. She blinked, shook her head and returned to Kira’s side.

“Are you okay?” Kira whispered, her warm hand lifting to Lydia’s face, wiping the rain off her cheek.

“Never better,” Lydia said, and stood back to observe the rest of the mourners.

Two men stood side by side in rain slicked coats, apart from the rest of the group. It was the Sherriff, his arm wrapped around Jordan’s shoulders. An inappropriate memory concerning the couple rose unbidden, possibly fueled by the absurdity of the situation: she, a murderess, attending her victim's burial.

Stiles, a few weeks ago, had arrived at her locker with an expression like he’d just tasted something sour, and he’d said, “Derek finally admitted why we always sleep over at the loft. Because, if we go to my place, his werewolf senses force him to hear my dad with Parrish. I mean, with-with. I knew they were dating, but he’s my dad,” Stiles had gotten this contorted look on his face. “Dads don’t have s-e-x, they play scrabble.”

Lydia returned to the present moment when the alpha and his mate approached. Scott and Mason wore formal, dark suits, which reminded her of prom, because when else do teenage boys dress up? And with prom came graduation. A scary thought, prom was safer to contemplate. She and Kira hadn't bought their dresses yet.  So many options to choose from, so little time.  

Scott progressed towards Malia. She, unlike McCall, had dressed down for the occasion: she looked like she'd stepped out of a country music video. The were-coyote had donned an ensemble of cut-off jeans, cowboy boots and a flirty purple top and her boyfriend had followed her example. Liam was rocking blue jeans with a black plaid shirt, yet he stood quietly by his girlfriend.

Scott stopped his progress in front of his beta and the daughter of the corpse.  “My mom and Braeden send their regards,” Scott said. He lifted his arm to give Malia a comforting squeeze on the shoulder or something, then seemed to think better of it.  

His other hand was firmly in Mason’s clasp. Gone were the days when Scott and Mason stood at a respectable distance from each other in deference to Kira’s broken heart, because Kira was blissfully happy and in love with someone new. Someone fantastically better who had impeccable taste in lingerie. Ooh, maybe after this, they could go shopping.

“Why?” Malia said. Lydia stopped fantasizing about wrapping her girlfriend in gauzy, sheer fabric with an abundance of strategically placed ribbons to find Malia staring at Scott blankly.

There was an awkward silence.

“Probably because he was your dad,” Liam said. “But that’s plain stupid. He was a jerk.”

“Oh,” Malia said. “I’m supposed to feel sad because I’m his daughter?”

“No,” Scott was quick to correct. “You’re allowed to feel however you want.”

“Good because I’m starving.” Malia rubbed her apparently empty stomach. “And Liam needs to learn how to hunt.”

Liam glared at everyone defiantly, ready to face any judgement of his girlfriend’s lack of feeling with his fists. Like anyone here was going to judge Malia.  She hadn't done anything wrong. _None of them had_ , Lydia assured herself firmly.

“You go get 'em, girl,” Mason grinned. “Teach my boy some life skills. But it’ll take more than a romp in the woods for you to get game, Liam.”

“Oh, burn,” Scott grinned, going from serious to amused in a second, genuinely proud of his boyfriend's joke.

“Shut up,” Liam said without heat. He wrapped his arm around Malia and smirked. “I seem to be doing all right.”

"No, you're not." Malia lifted a brow and gave her boyfriend a sideways glance, clearly unimpressed. “You haven’t killed anything.”

The group broke out into chuckles.

At Malia's blank glance, Liam explained the situation to her. “'Game' means like, skills at flirting or something. So I was saying that because I’m dating you, this gorgeous, fabulous, older woman, I’m the king of the world. But then you dismissed me so quick that yeah, it made me look like an idiot. So really, everyone was laughing at me.”

“You're not an idiot,” Malia said. “Humans are weird. They call me a ‘cougar’, even though I’m a coyote.”

“You’re hardly a cougar,” Kira said. “Scott’s mom, now she’s a cougar.”

“Hey,” Scott pretended to be offended. “Let’s not bring my mom into this.”

"I don't know," Lydia teased. "When Kira finally realizes she's too good for me, I might try to steal her right from under Braeden's nose. I mean, an older woman... She has all that experience."

"Being a mom!" Scott protested, glaring at Mason until his peals of laughter settled into a smirk.

"I'll show you experience," Kira said with a look in her eye that made Lydia wish they were alone and, you know, not in a cemetery.

Jordan and Mr. Stilinski had the right idea; they were leaving, but the other two guys missing from the pack were finally walking over and Lydia could start to hear their conversation, “you can’t honestly be sad that Peter’s dead. He was evil. Like so, so evil. Drown-a-kitten evil. Kill-his-own-mother evil.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was stretched thin. “Did I say I was sad?”

“No,” Stiles conceded. “But you don’t have to! It’s etched all over your sourwolf face. You didn’t eat any of your breakfast, and I made scrambled eggs! And last night you barely slept, not that I’m complaining-”

“Stiles,” Derek barked.

“Oh, sorry, hi guys,” Stiles said, looking like someone who’d brought his older, scruffier, biker boyfriend to a formal occasion. Well, Derek had the leather jacket if not the motorcycle helmet and the beer belly. Stiles’ suit was bursting at the seams. He didn't have a ton of money, she’d have to help him find a cheap suit that didn’t look cheap for prom. “Malia, sorry your dad died, may his evil soul rot in hell.”

Malia frowned. “I’m not sorry he died.”

“Now that’s a normal reaction!” Stiles grinned.

“He was my uncle!” Derek said. “Alright? I hate him, he’s evil, but he’s family. Was family.”

Lydia tried to stay very still and not look like the girl who’d exploded someone’s head using only the power of her voice. Derek didn’t have a lot of family left; no matter how homicidal and cowardly Peter had been, she felt guilty for robbing Derek of yet another relative.

But she also just felt so relieved that it was all finally over.

Something of her feeling must’ve shown on her face, because Derek said, “I’m not mad at you, Lydia.”

“You better not be,” Kira was quick to rise to her defense. “Lydia did the world a favour.”

“No one’s doubting that,” Scott said. “But could you two maybe refrain from murdering anyone else in the next few weeks?”

“We make no promises,” Lydia lifted her chin. Scott made it sound like they’d gone on some kind of killing spree. Rather, Peter had sent Kate and Gerard to kidnap her, so he could use her banshee scream to give him the edge it would take to kill Scott. He'd wanted her for a pet, predicting deaths at his command. When the father and daughter werewolf hunters came for her, they didn't count on the fact that her new girlfriend would be reluctant to give her up without a fight.

Kira had quickly rid the world of the sociopathic duo and after the Argents didn't return from their mission, Peter had tried to abduct her in person. Now he was six feet under. Hopefully Beacon Hills' homicidal maniacs were starting to get the hint that she was not a girl to be messed with.

Hopefully eventually she could get the gory images of that night out of her head and Kira would lose that haunted look in her eyes, like she was more scared of the darkness within her than the creatures that wanted them dead.  In the meantime, Lydia's strategy was to distract her girlfriend with kisses and spoil her with fantastic dates and outlandish gifts. 

“Look, Derek,” Stiles's subdued voice interrupted her musing. “I just…I don’t like seeing you upset. I wish there was something I could do make it stop.”

“I know,” Derek kissed him quick on the lips, patted Stiles’ neck, whispered something.

“We should probably leave,” Lydia said, quickly turning to Kira, worried about how her words had sounded. “Not that we did anything wrong!” She was human- right, the banshee thing- she wasn’t exactly human, but she was a person, so she felt weird about killing a guy even though he’d been the bane of her existence, but she never wanted Kira to doubt herself.  

 Scott was a great alpha, a true alpha, but that meant that he couldn’t do certain things, and, when evil came a-knocking, people like her and Kira had to knock back, harder.

“How about we go shopping?” Kira said.  

Lydia knew there was a reason she loved her. “Music to my ears.”

They passed by the other new tombstones, one of them saying _Kate Argent_ , the other _Gerard Argent_. Delivering their corpses to the authorities had been a courtesy to Chris. The Sherriff and his lover-boy-deputy would ensure the grisly murders got relegated to a forgotten box of cold case files soon enough.

Lydia reached for Kira’s hand. “You did what you had to do.”

Kira’s eyes looked haunted. “I know.”

Lydia stopped and pulled her girlfriend to her, framing her face with her hands, staring deep into her dark eyes. “You did. We’re all here today because of you.”

“You totally saved the day, though,” Kira smiled. “My hero.” Kira leaned in to kiss her, all sexy and warm, and she made it all worth it. This is what Lydia was fighting for, this is what she'd kill a thousand Peters to keep.


End file.
